


Die Harder

by Commakaze



Category: Homestuck
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Cock Rings, Dirty Talk, Edgeplay, Fuck Or Die, Gunplay, Hair-pulling, Humor, Knifeplay, M/M, Multi, Sexual Roleplay, Spitroasting, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-27 03:23:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13872069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Commakaze/pseuds/Commakaze
Summary: Captured by the cruel villain Goldeneye, left trussed up and alone, Jake English waits and hopes for his dashing boyfriend to come rescue him and save the day.(Better hurry, Agent Strider, because the cock is ticking...)





	Die Harder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Joyfulldreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joyfulldreams/gifts).



> Edit March 18: Now with complete tags :)

A brief scuffle, and you fall, pinned under the grip of the villainous cretin you and your partner have been chasing for weeks. You glare at him defiantly. You knocked his signature shades away in the scuffle, exposing the features that belie his identity, and you meet them with all the fury you can muster. “Goldeneye,” you spit, struggling against the hold he has on your wrists. “I should have known it would be you.”

He smirks and hauls you up with only a little effort. You regain your feet and follow him to the center of the room, occasionally tugging against his grip to show that you’re _not_ cowed by his dastardly no-good deeds, but he pays you little mind and captures your wrists in the long cuffs dangling from the ceiling.

You’re left there, arms raised above your head and helpless to his whims as he takes a step back to admire you. “Unhand me, you coward!” you demand, shaking your wrists in the cuffs.

Goldeneye just laughs and moves away. There are several lengths of rope neatly coiled on the worktable against the wall, and he gathers these and a sharp knife before returning to you. You suck in a sharp breath, eyes fixed on the knife, and Goldeneye leers. “Scream if you want,” he says. “You’re not going anywhere.”

You lift your chin and glare with all your might as he approaches and places the rope on the floor. “You just wait,” you warn him. “My boyfriend will be here soon, and _then_ you’ll be sorry.”

He just laughs and starts pulling your clothes off you. The shorts go easily enough, and you kick them away with your bare feet (no point in dressing up to the nines for this, you’d reasoned), but he can’t get your shirt off without releasing your arms. That’s where the knife comes in.

You go very, very still as he slips the knife under the collar of your shirt and pulls the blade through the cloth down the front of your chest. The metal is cold against your stomach. When he cuts through the bottom hem and pulls the knife away, you let out a sigh of relief. It gets you a comforting pat on your now-bared chest before the knife returns to cut through the fabric over your shoulders.

Then it falls to the ground, and you’re left completely bare before him. You swallow and try to re-bolster your fighting spirit. He’s...he’s a lot more intimidating than usual, like this. Even the swept-back spikes of his hair seem sharper. But you’re a secret agent, and you’re not about to take this lying down!

He sets the knife down out of your reach, but when goes to run his hand down your chest, you twist in your bindings and lean away as best you can. “Keep your slimy mitts to yourself, you cad,” you spit.

He stops. One of his eyebrows slowly lifts, lips quirking. “And where,” he asks, “do you think you’re going?”

Your plan is to kick at him when he steps closer, but he’s too fast for you. One of his infamous flashsteps, you’re sure, but he’s pressed flush against you before you can react. There’s a hand in your hair, tugging your head back, and he bites sharply at the side of your exposed throat.

“Shit!” you gasp, jolting. You want to bring your hands down to pull him in--erm, push him away--but they’re trapped above you, and all you can do is whine. He nibbles and sucks, wet noises from his lips and tongue just beneath your ear, and jesus fucking christmas you’re going to have a wonder of a bruise tomorrow.

You’re panting by the time Goldeneye pulls away, and it takes you a second to roll your head forward to meet his smug expression. “So you think your boyfriend’s on his way?” he asks, and your cheeks redden at the thought of Dirk finding you like this. “Well. Why don’t we give him something to play with when he gets here?”

He releases you and picks up the rope again, and this time you’re too flustered to struggle as he drapes it over your shoulders. Nimble fingers tie knots down the front of your torso before pulling the loose ends between your legs, and you twitch at the feeling of soft rope brushing over your crotch. He steps behind you and threads the rope through the loop at the back of your neck, adding a kiss on your nape that’s entirely too gentle.

You shiver, and shiver again as he starts to thread the rope across your body, slowly binding you into a cage of steady pressure. The brush of the rope against your skin, the occasional tug as he pulls it taut--it all makes you grow quiet and still, mind filling with a swaying motion and a hushed susurrus.

Entranced by the feeling as you are, you barely even notice when he releases one of your wrists from the cuffs and pulls your arm back. He makes quick work of tying it to the harness and brings the other down as well. It takes what feels like no time at all for him to secure your arms behind your back, and you’re summarily trussed up in the center of the room while your captor adjusts the ropes over your body.

You’re breathing heavily, and your eyes are shut. When did that happen? Doesn’t matter, you suppose. You’ve been caught, captured, and there’s nothing for you to do now but sink into the pulls and tugs at your back. He’s doing something back there, you can tell, but it doesn’t fully register in this half-trance.

You wake right the fuck up when he shoves at the back of your shoulders, though! You yelp and fall forward, sense of balance whirling madder than any damn dervish, only to stop short when the ropes pull taut and catch you. “What in the fucking blazes?!” you demand, twisting to peer over your shoulder while that bastard laughs at you.

You quickly realize that he’s looped some of the other rope lengths through the hook in the ceiling and attached them to your harness. You are, essentially, leashed to the ceiling with only a little bit of leeway in any direction. Glaring over your shoulder, you try to pull your feet underneath you, but Goldeneye just grabs your hips and pulls you further off-balance.

“You know, for someone who claims to think quickly on his feet, I expected you to be more sure-footed,” he comments. “But I guess you just don’t have a leg to stand on.” And he pulls your right leg up and back, leaving you balanced precariously between the ropes and your other foot.

“Yuk it up,” you tell him, fighting to keep your voice steady. “We’ll see who’s laughing when you’re behind bars, bucko!”

He just snorts and ties your ankle to your thigh, leaving enough give that it won’t cramp for a good while. Another length of rope goes to secure your leg to the hook, and isn’t this fucking dandy. You squirm, hopping slightly on your only free limb, and crane your neck to give him the most defiant look you can manage from your nearly horizontal position.

He’s smiling and thoughtfully tapping his lip with one finger, and you feel your bravado give way to a hint of nerves at that expression. It suddenly strikes you that you are, quite literally, at the mercy of this man. This known criminal. This absolute scourge of the underworld. There’s no telling what he’ll do to you. You swallow nervously.

Goldeneye catches the motion and grins. “No need to look so worried,” he tells you, kneeling directly in front of you. It puts him on level with you, and you hold his gaze. His grin turns a little wicked. “In fact, lets see if we can’t get you a little more excited about this.”

You don’t get a chance to retort; he fists a hand in your hair and uses that to pull you into a heated kiss. The sting against your scalp makes you groan, and he presses the advantage, plunging into your mouth without so much as a by-your-leave.

It’s as much an invasion as it is a kiss. The hand in your hair drags and positions you to his convenience without regard for how you have to hop and shuffle to follow the movement. You’re completely off-balance like this, forced to rely on the harness to hold you, and it’s goshdamned disconcerting, is what it is. You’re head’s spinning, and not only from the way that your captor just traced the edge of your tongue with his own.

He draws back for the barest moment, and your scalp pulls painfully as he stops you from trying to follow him. You start to growl a complaint, but it turns into a whine when he twists your head to the side and mouths over the top of your ear.

And then he closes his teeth around the outer curve, gently scraping the edges of his teeth over the pliable skin. “Oh, oh fuck,” you whimper. Your leg shakes, and you almost lose your footing. _Christ on a cracker._

He doesn’t let up, tracing the tip of his tongue down the shell until he can suck your earlobe between his lips, and you _do_ lose your footing then, toes scrabbling at the smooth floor beneath you. Your moan just encourages him, and he holds you in place by the hair while he wrings out every gasp and groan you’ve got. Lips, tongue, _teeth,_ tugging and sucking at you, and you feel like a firecracker, fuse lit and set to ignite, _cringlefucking christopher_ he is unfairly good with his mouth.

It’s only when you’re squirming inside this blasted rope cage, shoulders flexing fruitlessly against the pull of the bondage, that Goldeneye ceases his torment. He sits back on his heels, still holding your head in place by the hair, and meets your eyes. You flush harder, knowing that you’re a gasping mess, and wait for him to lean in and kiss you.

He doesn’t.

The loss of his hand in your hair is a shock, and you reel as he stands. “What,” you croak, leaning against the pressure of the ropes.

Goldeneye chuckles and shoves at your shoulder. You yelp and instinctively struggle against the ropes as your foot skids across the ground. It takes you a few tries to stop your swinging momentum, and by that time Goldeneye has collected something from the drawers on the back wall. Several somethings, you realize as he walks back to you, and you gulp. Your voice only shakes a little when you demand, “What are you planning, you heinous fiend?”

He pats your head condescendingly as he walks behind you. You feel a hand on your back, then light weight as he uses your body as a table. You can identify the plug and the lube, but there’s something else, something small, that you didn’t catch a glimpse of.

He smooths a hand down the curve of your ass, and you shiver, but the objects stay put on your back. “You seemed certain that your boyfriend would be here any minute,” he tells you. You feel him pick up the lube, and the slick sounds of him spreading it over his fingers make your ears burn. “What kind of host would I be if I didn’t leave Agent Strider a welcoming present?” The lube returns to your back, and he slides his hand down the crack of your ass without the slightest preamble.

You want to squirm--into his touch, away from it, you’re not sure--but his other hand closes on your hip and holds you steady as he rubs over your hole. At the first press, you drop your head and pant, helpless to do anything else. He opens you up quickly, almost perfunctorily except for the way he plays with your rim before adding another finger. You bite your lip and try not to moan.

Goldeneye notices. “You’re awfully quiet, all of the sudden,” he comments. He drives his fingers in on a particularly forceful thrust, and you let out a barely audible squeak. Your face burns. “What’s the matter; don’t you want to be ready for your boyfriend when he gets here? I’m doing you a favor, really.”

You roll your shoulders as much as you can in the harness and clench your hands into fists.

He laughs, and the hand on your hip pets up to your ribs. “Just think: This way, he won’t have to waste time opening you up.” The next jab skates right over that little pleasure button inside you, and you can’t hide the way it makes you gasp and tense.

Goldeneye leans over you and murmurs in a voice thicker than honey, “When he gets here, he can slide right into you, fill you and fuck you just like you need, and all you have to do is stand here and take it.” Your entire body feels flushed, jimeny fucking cricket. “Pounding into you, taking his pleasure in you, and if he feels like it, maybe getting you off when he’s done.” You can feel his breath wash over your ear. Fuckity fucking fuck, you were not fucking prepared for this. “Doesn’t that sound like a grand time?”

The only reply you can manage is a breathless curse, and he laughs again as he straightens. His fingers come free with an obscene noise, and you feel the plug disappear from your back moments before it presses into you. “Ohhhh _shit,_ that’s fucking--hah,” you gasp, tensing and writhing in the ropes as it slides in. It’s just a little bigger than his fingers, and he pauses so that the widest point stretches your rim for long seconds before he pushes it the rest of the way in.

 _”Fuck_ me _sideways,”_ you gasp once it’s seated. This is all getting a bit more intense than you had originally bargained for, but tip you over and pour you out if you’re not enjoying the bejeezus out of it.

Behind you, Goldeneye snickers. “Maybe later. For now, there’s just one more thing before I take my leave.” You feel him pick up the last object from your back, something so small you’d almost forgotten it was there. He steps to your right side and nearly startles you out of your damn fucking skin when he just grabs your dick with no warning.

Your stomach drops a little when you feel him roll something down the length of it. Oh, that’s--you let your head fall forward and look down the length of your body to see that yes that is indeed a cock ring that he’s putting on you. You whimper.

Goldeneye works it down to the base and strokes you once before pulling away. He takes the lube with him, and you’re left awkwardly bent over and balanced on one leg in the middle of the room, body posilutely _humming_ with arousal and desperate for touch.

He stands by your shoulder, looks you over and smiles. “Yes, I think that’ll do nicely.” One hand slips under your chin and lifts your head, tilting it back until you can peer up at him. “Such a shame that it had to end this way, but I’m afraid I have no choice but to leave you to your fate. Do you have any last words?”

“You expect me to talk?” you spit.

He just laughs and runs his thumb over the corner of your mouth. “No, Mr. English.” He stands and levels a gun at your face.

You freeze, and the instinctive jolt of dread doesn’t entirely fade when you realize it’s fake. You _recognize_ that gun. That’s the novelty remote control you alchemized last month, and if he’s pointing it at you, it means that the plug in your ass is the hollow one with a bullet vibe nestled cozily inside. Oh, shit.

His smile turns wicked. “I expect you to _come,”_ he says, and he pulls the trigger.

You barely notice him turning away and leaving the room, too busy biting back moans as the plug springs to life. You’re left in the same position with only the pressure of the ropes and the vibrations in your ass to relieve you--and neither of those are much of a relief, if you’re being honest. Without an audience, you squirm against the bondage and let your head drop again, panting roughly.

The vibrations are intense, stronger than you would usually start off with. You whine and bounce on your toes, needing some outlet for the unceasing hum of pleasure shaking through you, and try to clear your head a bit.

Cripes, he really filled the role on that one. You’re going to need to adjust your approach for the second part of this. The cock ring makes things, ah, _harder,_ but you can work around it. And Dirk generally follows your lead for this, so you’ve got some wiggle room for the scenario.

You’re not left alone for long, but it’s long enough for you to hammer out your plan with plenty of time afterwards for the vibrations to drive you steadily mad. The sheer relief when Agent Strider bursts through the door, making a good show of being frantic, is enough to make you almost lightheaded. “Thank _god,”_ you gasp when you see his worried face, soft amber eyes framed by the loose fall of his hair. Your voice cracks when you call him over, squirming.

“Jake? Jake!” he rushes to you, eyes wide, and runs his hands over your face, your shoulders, your arms. His fingers pluck and catch at the ropes that bind you in this position. “Fuck, what did he do to you? I’m so sorry, I should have been there, but I’m here now. Just hang on; I’ll get you out of this.”

He starts to tug at the knots between your shoulder blades, pulling you off-balance so you sway in the ropes’ suspension. You shake your head and stop him. “There’s no time! Those rapscallions set a bomb; even with all the fires of hell at our ass, we won’t make it out before it blows us sky-high.”

Dirk, to his credit, doesn’t even blink before following this new thread. He drops to his knees and pulls you in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he assures you, voice as intense as the way his eyes bore into you. “There’s got to be a way to disarm it.”

“There is,” you tell him once you catch your breath back. Cripes, he’s got lovely peepers. “I heard the scientists gabbing about it, before I got caught. Those dirty louses wired the failsafe to read my physiology; it’s set to cancel the timer if I reach a high enough state of arousal.” You meet his eyes seriously. “If we’re going to disarm the bomb, you have to make me come.”

He goes disconcertingly still, and you see his eyebrows and lips twitch and tremble for a few seconds. “A bomb,” he says. “Disarmed by your orgasm.” His voice is tense. You suspect it’s from holding back laughter, and you scowl. “Jake, the fuck kind of movies have you been watching.”

“Oh, bite me, Strider,” you grumble, shifting a little bit in the ropes and biting back a whimper when the vibrations catch you just right. You force your voice steady. “It’s not like you had any better ideas.”

“A _bomb_ disarmed by your _orgasm,”_ he repeats. “Okay, Jake, I know we used to joke about bukkake a lot when we were kids, but I think this might be taking the cum explosion theme a little too far.”

“Well excuse me! I didn’t think this had to be the height of friggin realism!” You writhe in your restraints, breath catching, and thankfully that at least catches his attention a bit. “Now would you hurry up and _touch_ me already?”

There’s still a hint of humor in the creases of his eyes, but Dirk nods and schools his expression. “Fine, okay, bukkake bomb it is. Why the fuck not.” He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, the warm orange irises are filled with worry and determination. “Don’t worry, Jake; we’ll make it out of this.”

“I know,” you tell him, meeting his gaze with all the love and devotion you can bring to bear. “I trust you.”

Dirk blinks, and he pulls you in for another kiss, open-mouthed and tender. You lean into it gratefully and sink into the warm slide of his lips against yours. “God, Jake,” he whispers when you part, leaning his forehead against yours. One hand cups the side of your neck. “I love you.”

You smile, and for a moment you can ignore the tension winding tighter in your body. “I love you, too.”

The moment passes, though, and Dirk starts to pull back before he suddenly halts, eyes fixed on your throat. His hand shifts, and you feel him brush his fingers over the lovebite from earlier. It’s still sensitive, and you shiver at the gentle pressure.

His eyes, when they meet yours, are dark and possessive. A jolt of arousal races down your spine and makes its home nice and comfortable in your dick. “Dirk,” you whisper.

He doesn’t reply, only buries his hand in your hair and uses that to tilt your head so that he can reach the unblemished side of your neck. It doesn’t stay unblemished for long, as Dirk latches on and sucks at the skin over your pulse. You gasp, tense but unable to move, and shake in your bonds. “Dirk--Dirk!” He bites, and you mewl, toes curling.

When he lets up on what’s definitely going to be a hickey to write home about, it’s only to dive back at your mouth, and you meet him with all the need burning through you.

The kiss is rougher, this time, Dirk biting at your lips and licking deep into your mouth, but it’s so godfuckingdamned amazing. You’re both panting when he finally pulls away again. “Dirk,” you murmur, ensnared by the molten warmth of his eyes.

He relaxes the hand in your hair and pets down the back of your head. “Yeah,” he says back, voice just as hushed as yours. A second later, he clears his throat, and you both slip back into your roles. “Alright. Let’s get this train rolling, then. There’s some precious cargo here that we can’t risk going off the rails, and as I understand it there’s still a ways to go before we reach the caboose. So all aboard, next stop: Splooge Mountain. Time to climb that peak, since apparently that’s what the villains in this situation care about.”

“It was Goldeneye,” you inform him unnecessarily. “He’s--Dirk, I think he’s your secret evil twin!”

He snorts. “Yeah, I’d kind of put that together already, but thanks for the confirmation. Woe is me, I am betrayed by the bonds of kin, etc. etc.” Despite the snark in his words, his hands are gentle as they trace the looping ropes that cross over your back and bound arms. “You, uh. You do look pretty hot like this, though.”

You feel your skin heat, and you lean into his hands as best as you can. He doesn’t make you wait long, at least, and you close your eyes in anticipation and relief as you feel his hand dip down your side towards your dick.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”

You jerk your head up, feeling Dirk jolt upright beside you, and there he is, that spike-haired bastard, lounging against the doorway into the room. He looks as perfectly put together and cool as the cold-hearted villain he’s pretending to be.

Brain Ghost Dirk.

Or, as you’re calling him tonight:

Goldeneye.

“You dastardly fiend!” you cry, twisting in the ropes. “It wasn't enough to capture and ravish me; you had to come back and gloat?”

His smirk widens. “Aren't you happy to see me? You certainly seemed to enjoy my attentions earlier.” He taps his finger against the side of his neck, the same place he left a hickey on you, and you flush.

Dirk steps forward to stand next to your shoulder, and you look sideways at him in anticipation. He glances between you and Goldeneye, lets his shoulders fall with a tiny sigh, and glares at Goldeneye as he pulls his katana from his strife specibus. “My name is Dirk Strider,” he says, and you feel a giddy joy bubble in your chest. “You kissed my boyfriend. Prepare to die.”

 _Swoon._ You meet his gaze when he glances down to you, and his lips quirk into a soft smile at your expression. You sway in your bindings, trying to lean closer to your rescuer, but the ropes pull you up short. “My hero,” you whisper instead, and despite the pink flush that dusts his cheeks, Dirk stands taller.

He levels the katana at Goldeneye, but Goldeneye has already pulled his own weapon in return. You stiffen when you recognize it--he’s wielding one of your own fucking guns! Even knowing it’s unloaded doesn’t completely stifle the jolt of fear that you feel for your boyfriend.

They stand off, a funhouse twisted mirror image, until Goldeneye laughs and tilts his head. “Looks like you brought a sword to a gunfight.”

Dirk shifts his weight into a ready stance. “It’s not about what you’ve got, it’s about how you use it.” He flashsteps, but so does Goldeneye, and Dirk’s sword clatters against the floor a moment later.

“And when you’re evenly matched,” Goldeneye counters, your gun once again pointed at Dirk, “It’s the one with the best tools who comes out on top.” He reaches out with his other hand and runs it down the line of Dirk’s stiff jaw. He leers. “And I do so love to come on top.”

Your Dirk, brave and defiant to the end, doesn’t flinch. He just meets Goldeneye with a steady gaze, back straight and firm. “Fine. You’ve bested me, oh no, how could this have possibly happened. Just cut to the chase and tell us what you want, since apparently we’re on kind of a time limit here.” His eyes cut to you for a second before returning to Goldeneye, and he mutters, “Which makes it weird that you chose to come back instead of escaping, but whatever, we’ll just keep tripping over these plot holes, it’s fine.”

Goldeneye ignores the aside and raises an eyebrow. “A time limit, yes, I overheard your precious little boyfriend telling you all about the bomb. Very clever of him.” He looks over at you, and you can’t help smirking just a tiny bit. It _was_ rather clever, you think. With just a small tweak to the original scenario, you’ve trapped him into having to get you off sooner than he was probably planning, if the cock ring was any indication.

Then Goldeneye grins. “Interesting that he didn’t mention the sensor in the cock ring.”

What. You stare at him, stomach sinking. That expression is too smugly satisfied to mean anything good for you.

A shiver runs through you, helped along by the incessant stimulation of the vibrator. “What are you talking about?” you demand.

His grin only widens. “What good is a failsafe for the bomb if it’s just going to go off on a hair trigger?” Your face burns, and you squirm. Rude! Your stamina is perfectly respectable, thank you very much.

Goldeneye turns his attention back to Dirk and ignores your silent outrage. “No, it’s got to be something that takes effort. Which is why the bomb is _also_ wired to Mr. English’s cock. If you touch him, the bomb will go off immediately. You’ll have to find another way to get him off, but I’m sure a fancy spy like you can get creative.”

Wait, _what?_ “Shit,” you mutter, shifting in the ropes. You’re not exactly an easy o when it comes to bottoming, and you were banking on a wanking. If that’s not on the table anymore…. Your bound position is suddenly a lot more ominous.

Dirk, meanwhile, is staring at Goldeneye incredulously. “This is a hell of a fucking convoluted plan you’ve got here, jesus christ. Did you just pick at random from a kink bingo card and hope for the best?”

Goldeneye chuckles and pats Dirk’s cheek before trailing his hand down Dirk’s chest. “Something like that, but all things considered…” He steps closer, angling your gun to give himself room, and drops a hand to the bulge in Dirk’s pants. His grin turns positively salacious as Dirk sucks in a breath and goes red. “I think I’m right on target. That bingo card is going to have a total blackout by the time I’m finished with you two.”

“That shouldn’t be sexy,” Dirk breathes, staring at him with wide eyes. His hands flex uselessly at his sides. “Why is that hot, what the fuck.”

Goldeneye laughs outright at that and spins Dirk to face you. He slides behind Dirk, wrapping his arms around him and plastering himself to his back. The gun comes up to rest under Dirk’s chin while his other hand goes back to massaging Dirk through the front of his pants, and Goldeneye hooks his chin over Dirk’s shoulder.

You’re suddenly faced with two sets of golden eyes fixed on you, one dazed with helpless arousal and the other hungry and dark. Holy toledo, okay. A quiet noise escapes your suddenly dry throat. You swallow, and both of them drop their eyes to follow the motion of your adam’s apple, haha, _fuck._

Goldeneye tilts his head to kiss at the side of Dirk’s neck and nibble at his ear, gaze never straying from you. You burn under the attention. “He looks so good like that, doesn’t he?” he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. “All wrapped up nice and pretty. See how much he wants you?”

Dirk gasps as Goldeneye sucks on his ear, head tilting to give him more room. His eyes go half-lidded, but they never stray from you even as he leans back into Goldeneye’s hold. His hips push into the hand rubbing and massaging him.

You whimper his name and strain against the ropes, wishing you could get closer.

“Mmm, yeah, you’re definitely enjoying this,” Goldeneye says, releasing Dirk’s ear. “So here’s the next spot on that bingo card: O-5. As in, the timer on that bomb is counting down as we speak, and if you don’t get him off in the next five minutes, we’re _all_ going to be blown to pieces.” He lets go of Dirk entirely and takes a step back, gesturing him forward. “Go on, then. I even saved you some time by opening him up for you.”

It takes Dirk a second to resettle himself, but then he comes to stand by your shoulder. One hand cups your chin, helping you to look up at him from this close angle, and the other moves to hold your hand behind your back. “It’s going to be okay,” he tells you, and your heart swells. Here you are, in a life-or-death situation with a megalomaniac directing your every move, and he’s taking the time to reassure you. “I’ll take care of you.”

“I know you will,” you say, drowning in his eyes. You smile and see him catch his breath. “I trust you.”

Dirk drops to his knees beside you and pulls you into a kiss, quick and heated. His hand slides to the back of your head, cradling you close. You answer it with all the want and need you can bring to bear. Both of you are breathing hard when he pulls away. “Christ, Jake,” he whispers, carding his hand through your hair.

In front of you, Goldeneye clears his throat. “Tick tock, gentlemen. As touching as this display of emotion is, we’re on a tight schedule.”

“Right.” It still takes a second for Dirk to stand up again and move behind you. You’re left to watch Goldeneye, who meets your gaze and smiles, bringing your gun in closer to his chest. He runs the fingers of his other hand down the barrel of it right as you feel Dirk’s hands trace down your back.

Dirk comes to a stop over the curve of your ass, hands just barely pulling your cheeks apart to expose the base of the plug. One of his thumbs dips in and presses on the plug. It shifts inside you, still buzzing merrily away, and you tighten around it involuntarily. You drop your head and groan.

Before Dirk can do anything else, Goldeneye prompts, “Why don’t you take your clothes off, get comfortable? You can be a matched set.”

“Hurry up, slow down, would you make up your fucking mind,” Dirk mutters, but his hands leave you.

“Are you arguing with the guy with a gun? An interesting strategy,” Goldeneye rejoinders, and you hear the shuffle of cloth falling to the floor as Dirk disrobes.

Goldeneye tosses Dirk the lube from before, and your cheeks heat at the sound of him slicking himself up. There’s no commentary when Dirk’s hands return this time. He pulls the plug free, sending shudders through you as the widest part catches on your rim. Then it’s gone, tossed to the side, and you’re empty for a split second before Dirk presses against you.

One hand on your hip steadies you as he works the tip in, wider than the plug and so much warmer and _real._ He slides in deep, making your breath hitch, before pulling back and pushing in harder. His other hand slides up your back, catching on the criss-crossing ropes, and laces your fingers together.

It’s gentle, but the force of it is still enough to rock you, and you sway on your one free leg. Dirk rubs his hand over your hip and side. “Alright?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you breathe, focus caught on the steady pressure and withdrawal as he moves in you with long strokes. His fingers tightens on yours, and you clutch him back. The angle changes on his next thrust, and you yelp, clenching down as he hits that spot inside of you. “Oh! Oh, holy fuck, more of that, jeezy creezy,” you pant, twisting in the ropes.

Dirk obliges, catching that spot again and again, and he has you gasping out curses in no time at all. You moan and writhe, hips jerking with each of his thrusts, but it’s not enough! You need--you need--

The brush of cool metal against your cheek draws your attention back to the third person in the room, and you follow the pressure of Goldeneye’s hands to look up at him as he stands before you. He’s holding your face between his hands, keeping your head steady as your body rocks with Dirk’s thrusts, and you stare into those bright eyes as you pant for breath.

He hasn’t put your gun down, and the length of the barrel chills your heated skin where it presses against you. You whimper, and it turns into a cry as Dirk pounds into you at just the right angle. Goldeneye traces the barrel of the gun down your cheek. It sends shivers through you, the thrill of danger and the risk of your gun (unloaded, but _what if)_ being used to touch you--sensual and deadly and _so friggin hot._ Your eyelids fall, and you twist your head to press a kiss to the barrel of the gun.

Goldeneye’s breath catches. “You like that, do you,” he says, and the drag of metal over your skin is more deliberate. “You know, I was going to have you blow me, but maybe you’d like to take this first as a warmup.”

Holy homina, batman. You feel yourself flush down to your chest, and you open your eyes again. You don’t say anything, just look at Goldeneye and let your mouth fall open.

With a grin, Goldeneye brings the tip of the gun to your lips and watches you mouth over it. It’s cold against your lips, smooth and unyielding. You shiver as you run your tongue around the rim before sealing your lips around the barrel. Goldeneye angles it to slide deeper into your mouth, and you moan.

Behind you, Dirk curses and tightens his grip on your hip, pulling you back against him in counterpoint as he speeds up. “Jesus fuck, Jake,” he gasps, sounding like you just suckerpunched him. “Are you fucking-- _fucking christ.”_

The shift jostles you, and your teeth click audibly against the metal in your mouth. It’s not like sucking a dick, not really. There’s no give to it, no body heat except for your own as it slowly absorbs into the metal, no motion behind it except for the movement of Goldeneye’s hand. There’s no warmth from knowing that you’re pleasuring your partner, just a thread of cold fear at the threat of the weapon. But when the sight at the end of the barrel scrapes against your palate, you think you’d go off with a bang if you could just get a hand around your cock.

“Now that’s a hell of a sight,” Goldeneye comments, voice breathy. You flutter your eyes open, not sure when they closed, and look up at him. His eyes are so dark that his villainous name no longer seems apt, and he licks his lips as he meets your eyes. His other hand shifts to run gentle fingertips over your scalp. “If I’d known you were gunning for it this hard, I’d have given it to you a long time ago.”

Dirk’s thrusts stutter. “Did you just.”

Goldeneye glances up at him, winks, and yanks you down onto the gun by your hair. It takes you by surprise, and you nearly choke when the barrel hits the back of your throat. He lets you pull back and catch your breath before he drags you down again. You’re ready this time, and you lick and curl your tongue around the curve of the barrel, eyes squeezed shut.

Dirk makes a wounded noise behind you, and his hands are suddenly frantic against your arms and back. He clutches at you, hands in constant motion. “Oh fuck, Jake, what the fuck. You’re--I don’t-- _fuck.”_ His fingers catch and pull at the ropes, tugging you this way and that as his palms skate over you, until one hand latches onto yours again and the other dips down your side.

Oh fuck, _please._ You moan desperately into the gun and lift up on your toes to make it easier for him to reach your aching length. You’re so fucking close, all it would take is a single stroke, and you tense in anticipation.

The gun disappears from your mouth, and Goldeneye’s voice snaps over you. _“Hands in the air. Now.”_

Dirk freezes, hand on your belly mere inches-- _inches!_ \--from relieving you of this tension, and you nearly break down into fucking tears when he pulls it back. “No, please,” you moan, pushing back into him. You shake your head and tighten around him, anything to convince him to bring his hand back around.

He gasps, hips stuttering against you, but that’s your only point of contact with him as Goldeneye walks around you to stand next to him. You sag in your bonds, head falling forward, and look down your body. Dirk’s legs frame the one you have braced against the ground, and there’s your frustrated, lonely dick hanging despondently untouched. Look, it’s crying, Dirk, give it a hug to make it feel better.

Your dick goes sadly unhugged as Goldeneye instructs Dirk to put his hands over his head. You hear a metallic rattle and click and twist to peer over your shoulder, eyes wide. The angle’s bad, but you can see just enough to confirm that yes, Goldeneye just cuffed Dirk with the same hanging cuffs he used on you before. “Oh, fuckberries,” you manage.

Goldeneye gives you an amused look before turning his attention back to Dirk, and you let your head fall forward again. The strain is just too much to maintain. “Were you trying to get us all killed?” Goldeneye asks, and you see his legs move past Dirk. “I did warn you not to touch him there, but if you just can’t control yourself…”

He steps directly behind Dirk and does something with his hands that makes Dirk hitch up onto his toes, jerking you forward in the process. Oh, fuck, you hope he tugged on Dirk’s nipple piercings. Dirk gives the best responses to that.

There’s an undertone of laughter in Goldeneye’s voice when he finishes, “Well, I can certainly step in.”

Dirk moans and slowly starts to thrust into you again, but neither of you have any decent leverage like this, and it just leaves you rocking in your bonds with the occasional unsatisfying nudge against your prostate. It’s enough to keep you wanting as you listen to the cut off gasps and groans and wet noises behind you as Goldeneye plays with Dirk’s chest, but you’re teetering without any way to push yourself over, and _hey, chaps, weren’t you on a time limit???_

You’re just about to say something when Goldeneye releases Dirk, stepping away with a slap to his ass that makes him jerk into you. “Much better,” he comments, trailing his hand along your back as he walks around you again. “Or, no, perhaps not. It looks like you’re having some trouble getting leverage like that, Mr. Strider.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Dirk gasps, making a renewed attempt to deepen his strokes. It’s...somewhat effective.

But that’s certainly not Dirk’s fault! You crane your neck around to glare at Goldeneye. “You’re the one who put us into these positions, you scallywag,” you accuse, “so it’s hardly kosher for you to criticize us for them! Particularly as you’ve only made it harder for us to fulfill your dastardly design.” You wriggle around to demonstrate how thoroughly out of your hands the situation is.

“Fair enough,” he agrees, coming to stand before you again. “Fortunately for us all, I’m generous enough to help you out.” His hands go to the front of his pants, and he unzips them, pushing them down enough to free his cock.

It’s...substantially more colorful than the last time you saw it.

You take a moment to gawp at the bumpy, ridged, _blue and purple_ monstrosity in front of you before you lift your gaze to his amused expression. You gather yourself and glare, trying to ignore how you sway with each kick of Dirk’s hips. “It’s fitting,” you say, “that my boyfriend’s evil twin would have an evil cock to match.”

Behind you, Dirk stutters to a stop again and lets out a bewildered, “What?” followed by an incredulous “oh my god” when he peers around you to see.

Goldeneye ignores him and pushes a hand into your hair, gripping tight. “You’ve got a smart mouth,” he comments. “Why don’t you put it to use?”

He brings your face in close, but you struggle against his hand. “Now wait a goshdamned minute! I thought the whole point of this was to get _me_ off; how exactly is this helping? You’re going to get us blown to smithereens just so you can get your jollies!”

“So _that’s_ where you draw the line on realism,” Dirk mutters behind you. “Good to know.”

Goldeneye just laughs, sinister. “Oh, I’m helping,” he says. He looks past you, and Dirk starts thrusting again, only a little more effectively with Goldeneye’s hand in your hair holding you steady. “You just focus on ramping yourself up before that timer hits zero,” he says, and he shoves you down on his cock.

It’s big, a lot bigger than you’re used to, and you make a startled noise as it fills your mouth. Then Dirk pushes in again, and instead of swaying forward, you catch against Goldeneye. For the first time in way too friggin long, Dirk’s dick slides all the way into you, and you jolt at the sudden spike of pleasure.

Both of you moan, and Dirk immediately speeds up, sliding over your prostate with every thrust. Yes, okay, chalk one up for Goldeneye, this is working. You close your eyes and lick and suck at the strangely textured cock in your mouth, mind on the heat once again building in your belly.

You’re just starting to work up to that same fever pitch as before when Goldeneye suddenly fists both hands in your hair and shoves in deeper. You nearly choke at the sudden intrusion, and you _do_ choke when he does it again and gets into your throat.

You jerk in your bondage, instinctively trying to push him away, and burn hotter when you get exactly flipping nowhere. Goldeneye pulls out a second later, and his hand in your hair is the only thing stopping your head from falling forward as you sputter and cough.

Dirk slows to a stop behind you again. “Hey, take it easy, holy shit,” he says, real concern in his voice.

Goldeneye is audibly smug when he replies, “I don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands.” You’re still gasping raggedly when Goldeneye forces you back down on his cock--not as deep this time, but still enough to threaten at closing your airways again. You let your eyes fall shut and work your lips and tongue over the ridges of the cock, hushed whimpers slipping out.

Goldeneye laughs breathlessly. “Besides,” he continues, “he likes it. Don’t you, English?” One hand loosens and pets through your hair, condescending and proprietary.

You squeeze your hands into fists, wishing you had something you could hold onto, and moan _hard_ around the intrusion in your mouth. It still comes out muffled and muted. Frustrated, you suck harder, viciously pleased when it gets you a gasp and a kick of Goldeneye’s hips. Goldeneye just laughs breathlessly and pushes you down on him again, fitting into your throat, and your eyes water as you fight back the impulse to gag. You work your tongue over him frantically, and shitfucking biscuits you’re so hard.

Dirk makes an uncertain noise, still not moving inside you, and Goldeneye sighs somewhere above you. “Relax, Agent Strider,” he says. “Anyway, don’t you have a job to do?” The cock in your throat pushes in deeper as Goldeneye leans over your back, and through the pounding in your ears you hear Dirk yelp in the way that means Goldeneye just flicked one of his nipple piercings.

The whines and whimpers continue behind you as Goldeneye torments Dirk’s nipples, and finally Dirk pushes into you again. Your eyes roll in your head as he scrapes over your overstimulated prostate, simultaneously driving Goldeneye’s dick even deeper into your throat, and your head is spinning from arousal and lack of air.

Just as you’re starting to get worried, Goldeneye pulls back enough for you to suck in several deep breaths. The loss of pressure means that Dirk’s next thrust sends you swinging wildly, but Goldeneye anchors a hand in the hair at the back of your head and holds you steady. The sharp pull every time Dirk pushes into you tears gasps from your throat, and you look up at Goldeneye through unfocused, dazed eyes.

He’s smirking down at you, lips twisted in cruel amusement. “Are you getting close, yet, Mr. English?” he asks, taunting. “I’m afraid that in all the excitement, I lost track of time, but I can’t imagine there’s much left on the timer.” His hand tightens in your hair, and his voice takes on a threatening edge. “You’d best hit that peak soon, Mr. English, or there won’t be a peak left for you to hit.”

You whimper and stare with wide eyes, tears starting to prick at them as the thrill jolts through you. Goldeneye keeps talking, low and dangerous, threats and warnings of your impending orgasm or your impending doom, and fuck-a-doodle-doo if it doesn’t wind you up tighter. He keeps it up even as he starts rocking into you again, filling your mouth and your ears, and adrenaline rockets through you with the sense of immediate danger.

Behind you, Dirk’s thrusts are getting harder, his gasps harsher. You recognize the hoarse rasp in his breaths and the way his hips are kicking just a little more forcefully, pushing you deep onto Goldeneye’s cock. He’s getting close.

Goldeneye realizes it, too, and pulls out of your mouth. You whine and try to chase after him, but his solid hold on your hair keeps you in your place while Dirk pounds into you. You pant, open-mouthed, while Goldeneye talks over your back. “Easy there, Mr. Strider,” he says. “Are you forgetting why you’re here?” He shakes you by the hair pointedly, the force of it rocking your body in the restraints, and you whimper, a few tears spilling out. “You don’t come until he does.”

 _“Fuck,”_ Dirk manages, and he slows down. You squirm back, trying to get him to keep up the pace because it was fucking _perfect,_ but you don’t have any friggin _leverage,_ foot slipping uselessly under your trembling leg. Dirk’s thrusts get shorter, quick little jabs across your prostate, and while it’s not as good as it was before, the knowledge that he’s edging himself to get you off sets your brain on fire.

Jesus fucking christmas, if you don’t get off soon, you think _both_ of you might expire in a way that has nothing to do with the time limit looming over you. You squeeze your eyes shut and throw yourself into swallowing around Goldeneye, ignoring the tears trailing down your cheeks. The two of them are a chorus of gasped curses and desperate groans above you, Dirk easy to pick out by the way his breathing gets increasingly ragged.

As you all stumble closer to orgasm, Dirk’s thrusts get slower and shorter as he staves it off as long as he can. Soon enough, he’s barely rocking into you, blood-hot cock twitching in and out in barely perceptible strokes. In your over-aroused state, it’s still enough to keep you riding that wave of heat.

Goldeneye tips over first, picking up speed until he’s burying that long blue cock halfway down your throat. He gasps your name, hands clenching against your scalp, and holds you there as he curls over you with a shout. You swallow around him, face burning from exertion and lack of air, and when he finally pulls out you sag limply. Your mindless, ragged groans mix with Dirk’s gasping whines as the two of you sway together, both so close and still unable to come.

God, you--you’re teetering on the edge. Just a little more, just a nudge, that’s all it would take, shit you’re so fucking hard. Just a whisper of a breath on your cock would be enough, _hellfuckingshit, please, please, please._ You only realize you’re gasping the words aloud when Goldeneye silences you with his fingers in your mouth. You just moan, overwhelmed and helpless against your pleasure.

Goldeneye looks past you. “Harder,” he tells Dirk. “Fuck him harder.”

“I can’t,” Dirk chokes out. “Too close, fuck, I can’t, I’m sorry--”

Goldeneye cuts him off, stepping closer and reaching out. By the way Dirk gasps, hips stuttering, you think Goldeneye yanked him forward by the hair. You groan, wishing you could see them.

“You can,” Goldeneye says, voice low, “because I say you can. He believes in you, Dirk Strider. So be good for Jake and fuck. Him. _Harder.”_

Dirk sobs, and his next stroke drives into you with enough force to swing you into Goldeneye’s hip. He doesn’t let up, shaking you with each thrust even as you hear the cuffs rattle from how hard he’s trembling. Holy friggin smokes, he’s got to be so close that it’s painful, and still he’s denying himself to get you off. You cry out, overstimulated and overwhelmed and so far beyond ready.

Goldeneye kneels in front of you, blue monstrosity of a cock still hanging from his open pants, and fists a hand in your hair again to hold you steady for Dirk’s thrusts. You sob, so close and unable to just fucking _come,_ and Goldeneye speaks to you.

 _“Now,_ Jake,” he tells you. You shake your head against his grip, shuddering, and his expression stays fixed on you, hard and--and _powerful._ “Yes, now. He’s fucking you so good, don’t you feel him?”

You whimper, toes curling against the floor, and keep your eyes locked on his. “Can't,” you choke out. “I need--I need--” more, less, something, you don't know, it’s all so friggin much, and your weasel just needs that last bit of tension before it pops.

His eyes narrow, and the grip on your hair tightens. The tug against your scalp peaks with every one of Dirk's thrusts, Goldeneye’s hold the only thing bracing you and keeping you still. He glances over your shoulder at Dirk before leaning in and murmuring directly into your ear. His voice is quiet, smooth and dangerous, and your eyes slide shut as you pant for breath. With every word his lips brush against your burning ears, sending shivers through you.

“Time’s running out, English,” he warns you. “If you don’t come soon, you won’t come at all, and where will that leave us? Your poor boyfriend, working so hard for you, taking such good care of you, trying to save you. Can you feel how close he is? You should see his face, Jake, the way he’s staring down at you. You’re his whole world right now, his sky, his constellations. He’s seeing stars, looking at you, and you’re all that matters to him. Can you feel it?”

He pauses, holding you firm while Dirk pounds into you, steady and unceasing and so fucking hot with the desperate noises spilling out from him. You whine, shaking.

Goldeneye licks over the curve of your ear and keeps talking. “He’s being so good for you. You want to be good for him, too, don’t you?” You nod against the grip in your hair, tears spilling down your cheeks and dripping off your chin. Goldeneye’s voice goes hard, despite the whisper. “Then you’d damn well better come. We’re down to the wire, English, and if you don’t blow your load, we’re all getting blown sky high.”

His grip tightens in your hair, keeping you still while Dirk scrapes over your prostate again and again and _again,_ and you’re gasping, sobbing. Your heart pounds, racing, and you can barely hear Goldeneye over the sound of it rushing in your ears. “So let go, Jake. Let it go and let it _come.”_

He punctuates the command with a sharp nip on your earlobe, and with a strangled scream, you finally tip over. Without so much as a finger on your cock, you come.

It's _intense._ Dimly, you register Dirk shouting and coming as you clench down on him, but it’s barely a speck in your awareness as you’re swept away by the force of your own orgasm. Your cock almost hurts as it pulses, the waves of pleasure tearing through you, and you jerk as much as the ropes let you. It’s overwhelming, all-consuming, impossible to ride without being pulled under.

Through it all Goldeneye pets his hands over your face and neck.

And then it’s over, and you go limp. Your body is trembling, muscles shivering even as they go lax, but your mind has gone still and silent. You’re wiped blank and empty, and you drift in this strange peaceful calm, detached from the world around you. Brain Ghost Dirk will take care of you. All you have to do is… exist.

Brain Ghost Dirk runs his fingers through your hair and presses a kiss to your temple before standing and walking past you to Dirk. His hip brushes your bare leg, sending sparks of sensitivity across the skin, and you hear the rattle of chains as he releases Dirk’s wrists. “Easy, Dirk,” Brain Ghost Dirk is saying, voice gentle. “Easy, I’ve got you. You did so well, shh.”

Dirk is still moaning thinly, dazedly, and a weak shiver goes down your spine. You recognize that sound. He’s out of his head, drifting along somewhere in subspace. Considering how hard Brain Ghost Dirk pushed him, it’s not terribly surprising.

There’s an urge rising in the stillness of your mind, to reach out and curl into him, hold him close and comfort him. You let it slip back under the surface, though, and let Brain Ghost Dirk take care of it. Even if you were unbound, you don’t think you’d have the energy to so much as hold yourself up.

Neither does Dirk, by the sound of it. Brain Ghost Dirk grunts and carries Dirk to the pile of blankets and pillows you keep in the corner before returning to you. You groan at the touch of his hands on your heated back, his fingers sliding along the edges of the ropes. Your entire body feels hypersensitive.

“Shh,” he soothes you, setting to work untying you. “Shh, it’s over, you did good.” You dangle, limp, as the unwinding ropes tug at you. Soon, the tension falls loose, and you collapse into Brain Ghost Dirk’s waiting arms. He cradles you against his chest, murmuring gentle words as he carries you to the blanket nest as well.

Dirk is still out of it when Brain Ghost Dirk puts you down, but he curls towards you automatically and presses against you while Brain Ghost Dirk finishes removing your bindings. You close your eyes and drift in the afterglow of one hell of an orgasm, twitching when Brain Ghost Dirk slides the cock ring off and wipes you down.

You’re urged to cuddle with Dirk, arms draping over each other and legs intertwining, while Brain Ghost Dirk settles beside you and rubs sensation back into both yours and Dirk’s hands. The warmth of both their bodies next to you, the comfort of their skin against yours, it’s--it’s good. From deep within that quiet, still place in your mind, you feel the trembling in your body start to ease.

When you finally come back to yourself, you’re on your back with Dirk half lying on you and Brain Ghost Dirk curled around your other side, arm over Dirk’s back. You lift your head to look down at Dirk, but he’s still out of it, features soft. Your heart skips and feels warm at the sight of him like this.

Brain Ghost Dirk meets your eyes when you turn your head to look at him. “Hey,” he whispers, golden eyes as gentle as the hand that traces over Dirk’s back. “How are you feeling?”

You take a moment to catalogue the answer to that and come up with, most of all: “Sore. The good kind, though.” And, based on the scratchiness of your voice, “I could use a sip to wet my whistle.”

Brain Ghost Dirk hands you a water bottle and helps you sit up without dislodging Dirk too badly. Dirk ends up lying across your lap, and you lean into Brain Ghost Dirk’s side once you finish drinking. “You sure played your role to a T,” you comment, petting Dirk’s soft hair. “That was...pretty friggin intense, by the end.”

Brain Ghost Dirk smiles and tugs you closer. His other hand comes around and strokes Dirk’s shoulder. “I enjoyed it. I, uh, really fucking enjoyed it, actually. The two of you were kind of brain-meltingly hot. I liked taking control of that.” He laughs. “And the banter was fun.”

You snicker, remembering some of the better lines, and turn your head for a kiss. His lips are soft against yours, a comfort. When it’s over, you lean into him again and chat while you wait for Dirk to join you.

A few minutes later, Dirk squirms, squinting up at the two of you before closing his eyes and relaxing back into your lap. “That was a hell of a lot longer than five minutes,” he grumbles lazily, voice scratchy. “As the guy who got edged within an inch of his life, I’m just sayin’. Was more than five minutes.”

Brain Ghost Dirk snickers and lets go of you to bend and kiss Dirk’s forehead. “Your criticism of the lack of realism has been duly noted,” he teases, “and will be taken into advisement for future scenes.”

It’s amazing how clearly Dirk can roll his eyes without actually opening them. Must be a skill he picked up after wearing his shades for so long. “Great. Wonderful. So next time you’ll _actually_ wire Jake to a bomb, that sounds like a great idea.”

You hum and pretend to consider the idea, laughing when Dirk opens his eyes to glare at you. “You did great,” you tell him instead, and grin when the glare falters and becomes a blush. “Really, you did, protecting me and taking care of me.” You lift one of his hands and press a kiss to the knuckles, watching his face. “My hero.”

He buries his face in your stomach and pushes at your hip, ears bright red, and you laugh and let it go. Brain Ghost Dirk coaxes him back up with the promise of water and a salve for his bruised wrists, and you hold him against you while he settles back into himself. Brain Ghost Dirk watches you both, hand on your knee, and smiles.

You take another sip of water, yourself, and lean your head on Dirk’s shoulder, just enjoying the physical contact with your boyfriends. Next time, you think. Next time, you and Dirk will take Brain Ghost Dirk apart.

After all, that dastardly villain Goldeneye needs to get his comeuppance for such a cruel plot, doesn’t he?

**Author's Note:**

> *fingerguns* ;)


End file.
